


We Are Not Lords

by Oodles



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls III
Genre: Incest, M/M, POV Alternating, the violence is not actually graphic there's just one very bad thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:33:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9173887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oodles/pseuds/Oodles
Summary: Lothric is a cursed name.





	

**_We are not Lords. We exist between the cinder and the ash._ **

 

**I remember when you were born, four years after I. They said such grand things about you, led our people to believe that you were the next Lord of Cinder. I saw but a frail child, touched by unknown power. I knew I had to protect you.**

_ My first memory is of you. I had just become aware of my own breath. There are certain things the body simply knows to do– others, you must command it for. The body wants to breathe, but I figured out I could stop it. There was a lot of pain for me then. I tried to hold my breath until it stopped. Spots danced over my eyes when you leaned over the side of my bed. Your long hair brushed against me and my breath returned in a rush. _

**I was the first person you reached out for. Your small hand wrapped around my finger and I decided then to be your knight.**

_ Father did not know who you would be, the first born. I remember how proud he was when you took up sword fighting. It came to you so easily and so it did not take long before you were a young man being sent out on missions in our family’s name. What confused me was how father always seemed ready to say goodbye to you. With every absence, he warned me that you might not come back, that attachment was meaningless. What mattered was being proud of our lineage. I asked him once why he cared so little for you. He laughed, pet my hair, and told me you would do well to be the martyr.  _

**Before you were born, it was decided who you would be. A Lord of Cinder. But when I saw the sickly boy – veins blackened by a curse, fingers like dragon claws – I wondered if it could be true. I wondered if, perhaps instead of a Lord, you were something far more precious. So I did my best to watch over you.**

_ At first, they celebrated me. They lavished me with unnecessary things, tried to make me feel like royalty, but even at a young age, I knew something was wrong. I cried often, though I wasn’t sure why. When nothing would comfort me, it was you they brought to my chamber, not our parents. Mother had begun to wilt, and father was clueless as to raising a boy who was not as strong as you.  _

**I was an easy child for them. I learned quickly how to navigate the castle halls without help, and how to handle mother’s depressions and our belligerent father. I tried to keep him away from you. The weight of his expectations.**

_ Father was so concerned with the future. I could not wield a blade, so I would learn from the archives instead, and prepare myself in any way I could. I admired you, but I was also envious. You were able to come and go from the castle as you pleased. Still, for some reason I could not understand, you kept coming back. It would have been so easy for you to walk away from this, but you were a proper knight, as I should have been. _

**You were the scholar. I enjoyed hearing of your studies. You were privy to things I was never taught. All of my knowledge was for combat, but you had proper teachers, and so you taught me as well. It wasn’t just history you showed me– you read me fairy tales and, in return, I told you of legendary dragonslayers. We entertained each other.**

_ You made those times so much more enjoyable. I loved playing the teacher, but I always wondered why they did not offer the archives to you. You, who journeyed to fight monsters and men alike, who stained your blade with blood and fire, were so much more suited to become a Lord. Did they see your strength and think that the next child they had would surely be as great? Did you fill them with false hope? We both turned out to be disappointments in the end, though, didn’t we?  _

**I no longer care.**

_ For ten years I did not leave the castle. It was that tenth birthday that you took me outside. I was having another spell where my legs would not support me, but you held me on your back and we went to the high wall. To see the world from so far up took my breath away. You pointed out landmarks in the distance, parts of the valley and beyond. You told me that Lothric was all ours. I felt like a true Prince for a moment, so high on your shoulders. We stayed out there for so long I began to shiver with the breeze. You said it was time to go back. I put my face to your hair and asked if we could stay just a little longer. _

**I was so pleased to feel the strength in your arms around my neck that day, as if that view gave you life.**

_ Ah, but it was not the view alone. It was who I shared it with. I never thought I could rule by myself. But with you by my side? Of course. Still, I was never meant to rule at all. That position was saved for our unborn brother. _

**The bastard Ocelotte. He was lucky to meet the fate that he did. Father had started losing touch with reality long before Ocelotte was even conceived.**

_ You saw it as well as I did. As soon as I began learning how to cast, he saw power where there had been none before, and the possibility that I might be strong enough after all to link the flame. He attended some of my lessons and I felt his gaze on me like a hungry parasite. I was old enough to understand that this was not how a father should love. Still, I wanted to please, so I learned everything I could.  _

**Sometimes I think that teacher of yours did us no kindness, and sometimes I think I owe him everything.**

_ At once he taught me considerable magic, and at the same time he taught me secrets of the world. He spoke to me about visions of a world beyond the flame. He also spoke to me about the foul deeds father committed in order to bring about a worthy heir. He spoke of the paledrake, the magic father sought in order to bring me into the world. The reasons for my blackened veins and my awful hands. The reason, perhaps, why I was so gifted with magic. I studied not only for father’s approval, but to defend myself against the things others said of me. The rumors that spread, the people who came to spy on me, to see if they were true. They wanted to know how freakish I was. _

**And do you remember what I said to you that day I found you weeping in the gardens?**

_ I will never forget. Fourteen and too old to cry, but I could not stand to study under another wayward stare. I had used a considerable amount of energy, both physical and magical, to get myself out of the archives and into the gardens, but I collapsed. People did not like to come into the gardens, for they were father’s, but there you found me. You took me into your arms and carried me to your room. You sat in the sill and held me. You thought I craved the view from the window. You told me that these people did not understand, that I was a gift, and that sometimes, when you were outside fighting and killing and wondering why, you thought of me and it made you fight harder, because it would not be worth it if you could not see me again.  _

**When I was locked in a battle with a demon prince, the whole time I thought of you. I wondered if this prince had a brother. I wondered if this demon had anyone who would miss it. When I struck my blade through its heart, I wondered what I would do if anyone ever did the same thing to you.**

_ Every time you left the castle with your sword on your back, I vowed to learn better magic so that one day I could fight beside you. I wanted to be strong enough to keep you safe. I wanted to be strong enough that you would never have to leave again, but so long as father was around, that dream would never come true. Father sent you after enemies of the family, because he feared for his little Lord’s life. The land had started falling into disarray and I begged him to let you help him rule. I told him you would be a good king, and he wrapped his hand around my throat and told me never to speak such treason again. That I was barely a man, that I knew nothing of ruling, that to talk of replacing him was grounds for execution, but that because I was his precious Lord of Cinder, he would forgive me this once. You were away, and the only person I had to confess this to was my teacher. He told me that father was trying to sire another son, using even darker means than those when trying to have me. Father seemed to realize that even if I did link the flame, I was not likely to survive the process. He placed no faith in you, so he decided to have another child, one that he could entrust with his so-called legacy. That’s when my teacher first told me of the dream he had, a dream of the deep sea.  _

**When I returned and found you absent from your room, absent from the archives, I knew something bad had happened. I did not expect to find you in my own bed, sleeping off the trauma. The bruise showed around your neck. I did not want to disturb you, but I could not stay away, so I laid beside you, determined to protect you in dream.**

_ In it, I was burning alive. When I awoke, and saw you watching over me, I wondered, not for the first time, what kind of love I was expected to give you. I had a feeling deep in my chest that it was not what I offered. _

**I knew.**

_ You touched my face and the edge of the bruise and you offered so sweetly to kill him. I told you no, only for fear of the power father was pursuing. I told you what my teacher told me, the strange paths father walked in order to bring about the perfect heir. I had seen father in the archives, pouring over old tomes that gave off terrible auras. I told you about the sea. _

**It was the first time you admitted your doubts about being a Lord. That maybe the fire was meant to fade.**

_ You listened and you did not judge, and for that I will always be grateful. At the time I felt like a coward, shirking my duty, my fate, my destiny. But I, too, wondered what the next age would bring, whether it be darkness or a deep sea or nothing at all. All I knew was that I did not want to serve the purpose that a poisonous man had given me. _

**All I knew in that moment was that I would serve you, no matter where you went.**

_ The years to follow were hard. My body was breaking down. I did not think I would make it alive long enough to become what father wanted for me. Father sent you away more often, and I trained harder, searching for a way to cure myself. My legs were the first thing to fail me. Bedridden, arms too weak to drag myself anywhere, magic upset by the foul mood it had put me in. The only time I felt like myself was when you came to visit. _

**I hated to see you so defeated, but I did my best to cheer you up. Still, it showed that both of us were faltering. Father thought me a true son, for he pulled me aside one day and told me that I had a brother on the way, one that would outshine you. He told me I was the Knight, you the Lord, and he, the future King.**

_ They quarantined mother the second the pregnancy was announced. I already hadn’t seen her in ages. She was practically a ghost. I did not think she would survive another birth. Those nine months were a blessing and a curse. Father was more lenient than ever, with his new prince on the way, and yet we were tense, wondering if either she or the boy would make it at all. It allowed us more time together, but I was such miserable company.  _

**It was only the pain. I wanted to help you however I could.**

_ When you woke me in the dead of night, I thought for a moment that you were going to end my misery with a blade. Instead, you crawled into my bed and held me to your chest. We were too old to share beds, and it jolted me awake like sharp, dangerous magic. You asked me if I would ever let you shoulder my pain. I was prepared to say no. I did not want this for you. When you held my face in your hands and pressed your lips to my forehead, I felt a tainted happiness. It should not have felt that good. You kissed the side of my face, and I felt like I was dreaming again, but not of fire. Cool water, easing the pain. You said, what if there was a way?  _

**And you told me, a haze in your eyes, that you did not take me for a dreamer.**

_ But it was no dream. When you held my face and leaned your forehead on mine, I struggled for air. I had long ago understood that I did not view you as I should have, as one brother should to another. Your nose fit against mine, and I thought you were comforting me. You tilted my head up and I stopped thinking at all. The pain vanished when you pressed your lips to mine. I did not know if it was magic or just distraction, but it worked. Still, I told myself this was merely your attempt at soothing me. Surely you did not feel the same twisted way.  _

**It took me a long time to figure out that our bond was part of the curse.**

_ Yes, of course. The physical curse wasn’t enough, no. I fell in love with my own brother.  _

**And, when I met you that day, I accepted your curse as mine.**

_ I remember when it set in. We were at court only a few days later. You stood before father as he ordered you to another journey, another death. I saw your body shiver. Your eyes went wide. You reached a hand forward, as if to steady yourself, and you fell to your knees, bending forward onto your hands. The panic in your face. I ran to you, no thought at all but to make sure you were well. Of course, you realized first that I was able to run at all. You touched my ankle and stared up at me, mouth working, no words coming out, only the sound of your breath, and we both understood. _

**Father was so angry. The only thing that saved me from his wrath was mother giving birth.**

_ Perhaps we should thank dear little Ocelotte after all. Father went to mother’s side immediately, and you were rushed to the healers. Of course, nothing they did could return strength to your legs or the sound of your voice. I did not know how to handle this. My own legs free of pain, still weak, but I was at least able to walk again. They told me to leave you and wait for news of my newest brother. I couldn’t care less about the damn thing. I knew this birth was not right. Father called him the child of dragons. I had merely been the bastard of beasts, born of two humans, corrupted by a grasp at power. This new child was different. He was not sired by our father, but by a monster who wore his skin. I cursed our father and went to your room to wait for you. All night they attempted to restore you, but finally, they carried you back to me. At first I was happy to see you, but then it settled in, what I had done. I had given you the pain that would have killed me. I took away your strength, silenced you, crippled you. I could not stand myself. Surely you would hate me too. But you…  _

**I could not have been more happy, to relieve you of some of that suffering. I had no voice to tell you. All I had was my body.**

_ You pulled me against you. _

**I kissed you until you calmed.**

_ And still, I thought you only wished to give me what I wanted. It hurt worse than any pain I’d felt before, to think you were kneeling to my disturbed heart. For once, I wanted to give you something back. For once, I wanted you to be the relieved one. I wanted anything that would bring you happiness. I dared to ask you what I could do for you. A stupid thing, to ask a man who cannot speak what he wants. _

**You told me you would do anything. I was only briefly ashamed, before it stopped mattering. We had nothing but each other in that moment. I knew what I wanted.**

_ Your eyes showed to me your desires. I could hardly take it. More, you wanted more of my pain. You wanted to free me. Selfless.   _

**Yes, I thought the more we shared, perhaps the more I would be able to heal you. But that was not all it was.**

_ I welcomed it. Begged for it. I pressed my face to your chest and I asked you to make me yours. It was all I could give you. Myself. You deserved so much more. I knew it was wrong, but I craved it anyway. As I prayed for a chance to repay you, you wove your fingers through my hair and I stopped speaking.  _

**You picked yourself up and leaned over me. Hands on either side of my head. The strongest I’d seen you in ages.**

_ You took one of my hands, the hands I had despised since I could remember, the ever-present reminder of father’s despicable ways, and you kissed those awful claws. You held them to your face and invited my touch. I had never been so brave, but with your permission, I forgot what fear was. I touched your face, your neck, your hair.  _

**I did not need words that night.**

_ Funny how quickly we turn to greed when given the chance. The vices claimed me one by one. I was desperate, I was impatient, I was greedy, I was shameless. You looked as though you wanted to appreciate every second, holding us together, frozen. Perhaps you were overwhelmed. It was a lot, I will grant you that. Even in sin, you were graceful. I, on the other hand, could hardly wait to give you everything. _

**And that is what got to me– your eagerness. That’s what got me to move again. Despite the dead weight below my knees, I found my way to you and I lost myself within you. You spoke my name so softly. If I’d been able, I would have said yours. In my head, I did, repeated it over and over. Such a cursed name, but that night it was yours alone.**

_ I did not notice the claw marks in your bed until after. For that I apologized, and you kissed the words from my lips. I never apologized to you again. We were beyond that. I did not even bother to leave your chambers that night. There was enough commotion with the birth that no one noticed. You held me and we slept and there was peace I had never known. The next day, I left you in time that we were alone when the messengers came to tell us that our new brother was gravely ill, and not to be seen by anyone other than our parents. It interested me not. I had a new goal in mind.  _

**Mother disappeared shortly after. It was almost as if she had never existed at all. I was glad for her to have escaped, by whatever means possible. You were so diligent for those weeks that followed, but you came to me nearly every night. Father had all but forgotten us, and you told me, among other things, that you sought a way for us to communicate without words. Your magic was so impressive, it was only a matter of time. Meanwhile, you encouraged me to continue practicing with my blade, testing my new limits. I did as you asked, sensing you had a plan.**

_ It was the power of touch, of course. Our bond seemed to work that way. When our skin touched, I found a way to hear your voice again. It only made it more enticing to join with you. We had already disappeared down that path, there was no reason to stop then. I studied every day and I talked with you every night. I talked to you about the first flame. It was fading, and it was up to me to link it again– to drag this age of fire onward, or so father said. Even with my help though, the fire would always be dying. And so long as that fire is dying, people like our father will search for more and more unsavory ways to keep it alight.  _

**You asked me if I would come away with you to watch the fire fade at last.**

_ And you told me there was something you needed to take care of.  _

**Ocelotte.**

_ I wanted to see him once before we left, our baby brother, a child of misfortune. His wet nurse was not expecting to see us, and you incapacitated her quickly while I went to the child’s cradle. It was even more awful than I thought. Where I expected to find a deplorable melding of beast and man, I found a perfectly healthy baby boy. It was not the body that was corrupt, but his very soul. It burned within him like a dark sun. Father had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. This child would no doubt grow to become a most powerful King. A monster with no mercy. A man worthy of the title Lord of Cinder. You pulled yourself to me and looked for yourself. I touched your face, and I saw in your mind what would happen to this boy. Without us, father would give Ocelotte everything. The castle, the land, the weight of the world. Either he would be the one to link the flame, or he would hunt me down and force my hand. Either way, we knew his life would hold no joy. I felt fear. You felt pity, and that is why you drew your dagger. You were always more compassionate than I.  _

**We left that night.**

_ My magic and your swordplay blended perfectly. We were able to move and fight as one. We went as far as we possibly could, so far that Lothric was merely a shadow, finding a place to rest at the water’s edge. Days turned to weeks turned to months, and there we stayed.  _

**We live. We watch. We wait for the fire to go out.**

_ I remember my old teacher’s dreams of the deep sea. I do not think this is what he intended. He feared the sea– its endless depths and endless possibilities. That is what intrigued me most. That is why sometimes I ask to sit with you by the water. I touch the glassy surface and watch the ripples that spread beneath my fingers. I stare at our reflection and I see, not just us, but a thousand versions of us. I see the world in which I link the flame and perish in the process, and you kill father out of grief and anger. I see the world in which we are both murdered in our bed for our treason. I see the world in which Ocelotte lives and tortures us for a lifetime. There is even a world where we are challenged unendingly by ashen ones who wish to link the flame themselves. I see a million worlds, my dearest Lorian, and none of them are ours, and yet– they are all us. We live a million lives and we die a million deaths, but we are always linked, just like the first flame. Here, though, in this world, we are but fortunate spectators, waiting for the day when waters will rise to meet us. _

**You will always be my Prince, Lothric.**

_ You will always be my knight.  _

 

**_We will never stop burning._ **

**Author's Note:**

> @oodleswrites  
> Come say hey :)


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